Guy Love
by imadinosawr
Summary: Deamus. Quick one-shot on Dean and Seamus. If you don't like guys kissing then don't read. :3


The thunder rumbled and crashed over head. The lightning flashed for less than a second, lighting the room for a moment. Dean whimpered to himself and buried his face further into his pillow.

"This is stupid," he mumbled, peering up from the pillow. "I'm seventeen; I shouldn't be scared of—"

The thunder boomed and the lightning flashed again and Dean's face shot back to his pillow.

He hated thunderstorms. He always had done, since he could remember, but more so since his parents had died during the summer holidays. Since then, storms always reminded him of the night they were killed. Each shock of lightning and each roll of thunder brought back memories. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as the images of his parent's faces, cloaked in a green light, mouths and eyes wide open in shock and in pain, and hooded figures swooping through his house and crowding around them flooded back into his mind. They were Muggles. Innocent Muggles. Murdered without a second thought. He'd been lucky that he had been spared, but he was the one who took his parent's bodies to safety, Apparating outside of Seamus's house with both of them. He remembered his head pounding, his eyes stinging and streaming, his cheeks wet and sticky, his nose bleeding where he'd try to fight off one of the Death Eaters, the rain coming down thick and fast, the thunder ringing in his ears, and lightning blinding him with every flash, kneeling on Seamus's front lawn in the dark, his parents lying infront of him in an awkward heap. He was in a numb trance, just concentrating on getting the bodies somewhere were the air wasn't thick with smoke and dust, or where the stench of death still hung in the air, or where the Dark Mark floated eerily over the house. Seamus had helped him carry his parents inside and into the spare bedroom and then Seamus's parents and brothers helped Dean to bury them properly. Dean had tried to detach himself from the bodies, telling himself these were just dummies, something that wasn't important and just had to be done. Only when he was standing in the local graveyard, his parents now buried in ceremony, two rows of freshly dug earth infront of him, two headstones stating his parents names at the head of each row, Seamus and Seamus's family around him, did he let himself break down. He cried. And cried. And cried. He cried when he went to get his things from his parents' house which was now no more than half a pile of rubble, half a charred skeleton of the house. He cried when Seamus's parents had had to sign the letters saying he could go to Hogsmead at the weekends and taken him to get his new books. He cried when he remembered how his own parents would have done these things. He cried so hard he was sick more than once. But that's all he felt he could do.

Shivering, Dean pushed those thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to think about his parents anymore. They had died long over six months ago and thinking about them would make it hurt even more. The thunder exploded again and the lightning flashed, the rain lashing as hard as it could at the windows. Dean pulled his covers more firmly around his shoulders.

_This is stupid, _he thought. But as the thunder crashed again, he leapt up and headed for the nearest help he could get.

"Shay?" he whispered, leaning over Seamus's bed. He heard Seamus laugh softly.

"I wondered how long it would be until you came over," he replied, his Irish accent as thick as ever. There was a shuffle of sheets. "Get in."

"Thanks," Dean said, slipping under Seamus's covers.

When Dean had been staying with Seamus after his parents' death, they'd often adopted this routine. Whenever there was a storm, Dean would ask Seamus if he could share his bed. It was the only way Dean could feel better about the storm, and being the kind friend Seamus was, he let him. Seamus always slept on his side, Dean pressing himself against his back. This was how Dean managed to block out the memories. This time, however, Seamus didn't turn on his side away from Dean. He turned to face him.

"Were you thinking about them?" Seamus asked after a few moments of silence, the two boys staring at each other wondering what to say.

"Mm," Dean replied, shutting his eyes to stop the images flashing up in his mind.

There was another moment or two of silence and then Dean felt someone put their arms around him. He opened his eyes again to find Seamus looking back at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Giving you a hug," Seamus replied. "It's how you cheer people up. Now shut up and hug me."

Dean, unable to do anything else, let Seamus pull him to his chest and hug him. As gay as it was, and as much as Ron would taunt them about it, it was sort of comforting.

_Seamus is a great friend, _Dean thought sleepily, Seamus's scent making his mind go foggy. Somewhere in his semi-consciousness, he tried to pinpoint what Seamus smelled like. It was somewhere between a mix of aftershave and alcohol – something Seamus was _very_ familiar with. Dean chuckled almost silently at the thought of Seamus's drunken antics. There was the time he'd pretended to be a lion and walked around with a duvet around his shoulders and a pillow case on his head, insisting it was his mane, and then there was the time he'd try to kiss everyone in the boys' dormitory. He'd succeeded with most of them, except Ron, who was a strict homophobe, who had run away as soon as Seamus had tried to seduce Neville.

"What are you laughing about?" Seamus whispered from above him. Dean opened his eyes.

"How did you know I was laughing?" he whispered back.

"I could feel it," Seamus replied. "So what were you laughing about?"

"Nothing really," Dean said. "Just remembering that time when you were drunk and you were trying to kiss everyone."

"Ah, I remember that," Seamus said, letting out a little, quiet laugh. Dean peered up, sceptical. Seamus continued, "Okay, parts of it."

"Really?"

"Well… No," Seamus confessed. "But I've heard the stories."

"Well it was really funny," Dean replied.

There was silence for a few moments as Seamus made one or two attempts to reply. He seemed to be taking his time in answering. Dean was drifting off to sleep again when Seamus spoke.

"Did… Did I… Urm… You know… Did I…" Seamus mumbled.

"Kiss me?" Dean supplied. "Yeah."

"Oh," Seamus said, sounding embarrassed.

"Why? What's the problem?" Dean asked, his eyes still shut.

"Sorry mate, I should have told you ages ago," Seamus said, taking his arms from around Dean and sitting up. Dean opened his eyes, aware of the sudden lack of warmth. He sat up next to Seamus and looked at him questioningly.

"Tell me what?" he asked, trying to think of what Seamus would need to tell him.

Seamus took in a deep breath. "I'm-gay-and-I-have-been-since-third-year."

"… What?"

"I'm gay," Seamus said, covering his face with his hands. "And I have been since third year."

Dean laughed once, letting out a sort of snort. "So? Why does that matter? We all had a feeling you were, anyway."

"It matters, Dean," Seamus said, peering at him from a gap in his fingers.

"If it's about Ron going all off with you, don't worry, he'll come around and realise you're not going to jump him at every chance you get," Dean said.

"You don't get it," Seamus groaned, let his hands fall away from his face. "I fancy you, Dean!"

Dean blinked twice, taking in what Seamus had just said, and then his eyes slowly widened. Seamus refused to meet Dean's eye and kept his eyes fixed on his hands, which was why he jumped when Dean's hand rested on top of his own, and he looked up to find Dean closer than he had expected him to be. Dean's dark eyes were boring into his own, making him feel self conscious. Seamus half-smiled. He loved Dean's eyes. They were pretty, almost too pretty to belong to a boy. He pondered over what shade of brown they were, whether they were a dark chocolate colour or an earthy mahogany colour, or whether they were a mixture of both. As he was pondering, he didn't notice Dean leaning closer, closing the space between them. Only when he realised he could feel the heat of Dean's breath on his own lips did he realise how close they were. Dean was so close… Should he…?

His mind was made up for him. Dean's lips closed on Seamus's. A shocked gasp escaped from Seamus's lips but that encouraged Dean to deepen the kiss, opening his own mouth and Seamus's in one swoop. Seamus's head was whirling. Evidently this wasn't the first time he'd kissed another guy before, but this time he was sober, and it felt so much better when he wasn't drunk. Dean cupped Seamus's face and Seamus held onto Dean's arm, holding him to his cheek. As Seamus felt Dean's tongue slide along his own, he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him closer. He could feel Dean's hand on his shoulder and heard the rustle of the covers being kicked away so they could have better access to each other. Seamus decided to take charge and broke the kiss, pushing Dean backwards and leaning over him.

"Shay…" Dean half-whispered, but Seamus interrupted him by placing his mouth over Dean's, his hands either side of Dean's shoulders.

Dean's hands travelled from Seamus's hips to his waist, where he held onto his t-shirt, pulling Seamus on top of him. Seamus's elbows collapsed and he was now lying partly on top of Dean. Dean's arms snaked around Seamus's waist and they rolled over together so now Seamus was under Dean. Suddenly, there was a smash as the lamp fell off the bedside table, care of Seamus's arm. Dean and Seamus froze as a light was switched on and there was a rustle of someone sitting up in bed. Getting frustrated with the pause in their make-out session, Seamus held Dean's chin and pulled him down again, kissing his bottom lip. Dean instantly returned it.

"What the fuck?!" someone shouted and both Dean and Seamus looked up to see Ron sitting up in the next bed, his eyes wide and his face white.

"What are you doing?" he yelled.

Dean climbed off of Seamus and sat up, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.

"What does it look like?" Seamus said, getting bored of another interruption and tugged at Dean's t-shirt.

Ron looked at Seamus and then at Dean, before turning his gaze back to Seamus again.

"How much have you had to drink?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing," Seamus said, sighing irritably and putting a hand behind his head.

"Nothing?!" Ron's eyes widened again. "You mean… you and him?! You're for real?!"

"Yes, so leave us alone, we were busy," Seamus said, using the hand that wasn't under his head to tug at Dean's t-shirt again.

"We always thought you were gay, Seamus, but Dean?" Ron asked, rounding on Dean.

Dean's mouth opened and closed, like a goldfish out of water. He glanced at Seamus, who was watching him intently. There was something about the questioning look on Seamus's face which made Dean's stomach turn and his heart pulse. He turned back to Ron.

"Yes," he said, his voice cracking. "I am gay. And I…"

He looked at Seamus again for reassurance.

"And I love Seamus."

Seamus couldn't stop himself grinning broadly. He sat up and threw himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around his neck. Dean found himself smiling, suddenly feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders – a weight he never knew he had. He caught Seamus and held him close. Ron watched them, his mouth wide open.

"Now if you don't mind, we were in the middle of something," Dean said, getting up and turning Ron's light off before returning back to Seamus's bed. They heard Ron lay back down but both knew he wasn't going to sleep well tonight. Seamus laid back down and Dean laid next to him, their hands entwined between them.

"Dean?" Seamus asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Mm?" Dean replied sleepily. Seamus knew Dean was almost asleep.

"I love you too," he whispered, pulling the covers up over them both and closing his own eyes.


End file.
